Today I want to talk about mastering the focal point as it pertains to perception. This includes seeing different realities as well as seeing more of the light spectrum. (Is there any difference?) What is a focal point?In art, a focal point is the area (or areas) of the artwork where the eye is drawn to the most. This can be done in numerous ways and it is the primary art of creating a composition. You can have multiple focal points in an artwork, but usually you have a singular one that is the "primary target" of focus. In photography specifically, a focal point is where the lens of the camera is in focus the most. This will also be aided by the composition of the piece, but it is also a mathematical point for the lens where the light is concentrated to its finest point. In terms of perception, a focal point is the part of your reality that receives the greatest amount of conscious attention. It is the present "point of attention". Today, I am using the term focal point to differentiate from "point of attention" in terms of incarnated selves or versions of self. This is more discussing the environment around you and your perception of it. Shifting focal pointsI was taking a walk a couple of weeks ago, and suddenly this idea dropped into my head. It was the idea that I could change the reality I am seeing if I can locate the correct focal point. Each perceived reality has a specific focal point, and this is what generates your perception of a particular density. This is both a mental focal point and a physical focal point. It happens in the mind and in the eyes themselves. Interestingly enough, this is why my Earth self is slightly myopic. We had to damage the lens of my physical eyes, because they kept trying to focus on the incorrect focal point for reality. If my eyes had stayed as they were at 12 years old, then as I activated as a teenager, I would simply stop perceiving Third Density as the upper limit. Which would have meant "game over" for the mission, because I would have perceptually exited the simulation too early. In 2023 I stopped wearing my glasses as much. I still needed them to drive a car and read signs far away, but mostly I just didn't feel like I needed them. About the time I stopped wearing my glasses, I started noticing I could perceive ultraviolet light. It started in the late spring after I got a new pair because the previous lenses were scratched. The new pair has UV blockers, and this is what clued me in to what I was seeing without knowing it. One bright day, I was taking a walk outside and I noticed over the top of my glasses (they have a habit of slipping down the bridge of my nose) that the clouds in the distance were pink. The horizon was pink. The highlights on the leaves were pink. Yet if I looked through my glasses, all that pink changed back to white. This persisted and continued to get stronger as summer passed. In late summer I went to the beach and while out there I had a really wild experience. Glasses off: the sky is lavender, the clouds are pink, the ocean is lavender and green, the sand is pinkish red. Glasses on: the sky is blue, the clouds are white, the ocean is steel gray and green, the sand is brown. The whole walk I was shifting my glasses on and off. My husband thought I was acting strange, and I told him, "The colors are completely different!" And I told him the difference. He proceeded to say dismissively, "You're just seeing things." To which I said, "YES!" Since then, on bright days, I can see more ultraviolet light than not. Back to the focal point. So, this walk where I had the idea of focusing on a focal point, it occurred to me that I could make myself see higher densities at will. That if I could adjust the focus of my eyes the way you adjust the focus and aperture of a camera lens, I could see more of reality. And that was all I had to do to see another layer. It occurred to me that maybe I should attempt first to make this ultraviolet vision occur at will instead of spontaneously. If I could master changing the amount of the light spectrum I see at will, then that's the first step to mastering shifting the focal point. The first time I tried while on that walk, I managed to turn it off, but not back on. The other day, I went for another walk. This time somewhere else. It was a bright day, and as I was walking, I looked up at the sky and focused on seeing ultraviolet. I thought about how the clouds turn pink and everything is awash in pinkish purple. And there it was. I imagined the aperture of my eye lens opening more, because I wanted to see more. The violet-pink got more intense. When I looked at the ground, the grass was washed out into a brownish color. But the reds. The reds were screaming! And the yellows were glowing! The blues also were vibrating in place. Suddenly, I understood why hummingbirds really love the color red. It's literally the loudest color they can see. I imagined the aperture closing, and the color palette went back to normal visible light. Then I opened it again. Closed it again. Off, on, off, on. I could see ultraviolet at will. And I could see more of it than before. This was so exciting, I was practically skipping the sidewalk sing-songing, "I can see UV light! I can see UV light!" Yesterday, I tried it again. This time, it was a cloudy day and very gloomy. I was on a hike through the woods. I turned on ultraviolet vision, and the color palette changed. This time, I brought my glasses to compare reality views. The difference is phenomenal. The trial I was on had a granite gravel base, clay-dirt topsoil, and a layer of fallen leaves on top. Here's the difference:
I kept taking my glasses on and off marveling at this. Seeing ultraviolet light grants such a greater range of color vision, it made me wonder what the hell I was seeing all my life that I identified as "blue".
So, of course, I went home and had to try out infrared. It was a chilly day, so the granite counter in the bathroom was cold. My bathroom also has no natural light once the door is shut. I shut the door and ran my hand under the hot water for as long as I could stand it. I turned off the light, put my hand on the cold counter, and focused. And there it was. My hand glowing pale blue-grey in the dark. To be sure I wasn't just seeing my aura, I took my hand away and looked at the counter. I could still see my hand shape glowing on the counter in the dark. To all of this I say simply, "Wicked." If I could grin any bigger, my face would split in half. What's next? Oh, I have no idea. Let's see what I can perceive next. This is fun! And because I have mentioned the word "aperture" so many times, I cannot get the following song out of my head. I keep singing the first part of the song (in fairly decent imitation of GLaDOS's voice): "This was a triumph. I'm making a note here: HUGE SUCCESS. It's hard to overstate my satisfaction. Aperture Science We do what we must because we can." (I love this song so much. It's so passive aggressive it makes me laugh.) I thank you for your time. Adiamas. --Kyriel Comments are closed.
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